


You know the way to make me lose control

by lushthemagicdragon



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David is a lot more like his mom and sister when he's drunk then he would ever admit, Drunk Sex, M/M, Patrick is a baby dom and it's precious, Phone Sex, Set at the end of 5.04: The Dress, Sexting, This is really just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lushthemagicdragon/pseuds/lushthemagicdragon
Summary: After Stevie and Amir leave David with a hotel room all to himself, David has a brilliant idea: drunk text his amazing, excellent boyfriend.Set at the end of 5.04 "The Dress"
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 8
Kudos: 162





	You know the way to make me lose control

**Author's Note:**

> Title is, of course, from a Mariah song. Fuck if I can remember which one now.
> 
> beta-read by the excellent highthemme

Polar bear shots are _amazing._ That’s the first thing on the unfiltered hodgepodge chain of thoughts that go through David’s mind as he sways his way away from the bar of the hotel and towards the elevator. Tammy is amazing. _Champagne_ is amazing. Mariah Carey is, of course, amazing, but she’s been amazing for like, forty years now, and her excellence has aged like a fine wine. He leans his entire body weight against the button to call the elevator down to his level. His toes flex in his shoes which twist on the ground in the endless amount of time that it takes for it to come. Did he get Tammy’s number? No of course not, why would he do that? Amazing people are amazing in the moment, and this moment? So good. It feels like a top shelf moment.  
  


The elevator dings when it arrives, and it brings with it the light bulb of an absolutely inspired idea. He drops his back against the elevator wall and leans precariously, typing away at his phone with his bottom lip between his teeth.  
  


\---  
  


Patrick learned months ago to put his phone on silent while he slept. Previously, he had opted to keep it on, the logic being that if anyone was trying to reach him in the middle of the night, it was probably important enough to answer. Admittedly, that was because his old life had lacked anyone with a flare for the dramatic; boring was the word for it. Boring, but reasonable, with very few left turns that weren’t of his own making, closeted behavior being what it was. It wasn’t even David that changed his habits. The desire to get a good night’s sleep and maintain some semblance of personal space was something they had very much in common. No, it wasn’t until he had been naive enough to give his number to Alexis and Moira that he started to regret it.   
  
“Oh that was a mistake.” had been David’s exact words, with a grimace to match. At the time Patrick had very much held his ground about dating etiquette and wanting to be in with David’s family. He also _may_ have conceded that David was maybe a _teensy_ bit right on the money about that one when a barrage of texts from Alexis about needing to know where David put her exfoliant at three in the morning kept both of them up.   
  
So the phone stayed silent from the hours of 11 PM to 7 AM, and Patrick maintained a comfortable relationship with David’s family on his own terms, which was the best anyone could ask for really. If Moira wanted to summon him on some wild whim and a need for his car at 8 AM, that was fine; a good night’s sleep was his recipe for extended patience. In his new apartment, in his new bed, without Ray’s ambient noise machine serenading him with frog sounds through a paper thin wall, Patrick could really, truly, rest.   
  
When the phone buzzed on his bedside table once, twice, three times, it didn’t wake him up. It didn’t even wake him up the fourth, fifth or sixth time. It took a solid minute of buzzing for the sound of phone against wood to permeate his dreams and ask the question, where is that buzzing noise coming from? It certainly wasn’t coming from his dream-phone that he was holding in his dream-hand. The dream phone was a landline.   
  
His phone is still buzzing as Patrick breaches consciousness and reaches for it. The light that shines in his face is way too bright for what time it is (What time _is_ it? 12:58 says the blinding screen in front of him). In that vague, half-awake state of disrupted sleep, he actually thinks it might be an emergency. 36 texts and a missed call, and a message. His heart jumps into his throat when he sees that all of them are from David, until he starts scrolling. 

David [12:54]: Patrick

David [12:54]: Patrick r u awake

David [12:54]: Patrick wake u

David [12:54]: p

David [12:54]: fuck sorry ur probably asleep

David [12:54]: but its just that tammy got me drunk and now i wish u were here

David [12:54]: omg wake up

David [12:54]: i refuse to live in a world where stevies getting laid and im not 

David [12:55]: hey look at me my autocorrects a fucking champagne 

David [12:55]: fuck  
  
It continues on like that for a while. And then there’s the message, which is very unlike David to leave.  
  
“Fuck, come _on_ ...you stupid lock, it’s a card key, this shouldn’t be _hard_ \--shit--Patrick! _Hi_ , I...don’t know why I’m calling you, except I was hoping maybe you would pick up your phone if someone was calling. Even though it’s definitely on silent because I told you to put it on silent, so...this is probably going to be _really_ embarrassing later, when I’m sober. Which I’m not.. Sorry. But Stevie and Amir are definitely fucking right now, and she left me alone with a whole hotel room all to myself, and it’s actually not super shitty given how my standards of living have hit rock fucking bottom. So I was thinking maybe you could call me back, and we could actually _enjoy this room_ . Also, I showed Tammy that picture you sent me from your bathroom, and she thinks you’re a snack. And I shouldn’t have showed her that. Sorry. Um, call me back. Love you bye.”   
  
Patrick can’t help but smile at the sound of David’s voice. He’s weak for how charming David is when he’s making an absolute fool of himself. He considers, for a moment, letting David stew in it for a while. He could check in on him in the morning. He considers, but his playfully mean streak gives in to a variety of factors. Concern, for one, and affection for another.   
  


\---  
  


By the time David’s phone vibrates (who even has a ringtone, it’s 2021, get over yourselves), he’s managed to extricate himself from his sneakers and get distracted by a loose thread on the hem of his sweater. The horrors of decaying fabric wear on designer clothing nearly distract him from the whole thing, and he reaches for his phone out of sheer instinct. 

**  
Patrick [12:58]: Who’s Tammy?  
  
**It’s a blessing of hotel room privacy that no one is witness to how brightly David’s face lights up at the text. He flops down with the weight of his whole body onto the mattress, attention now firmly fixed on his phone.   
  
  
David [12:58]: My new best friend from the hotel bar now that Stevies ditched me for a man  
  
**Patrick [12:58]: I see  
  
**

David [12:58]: not that i would ever do that

David [12:59]: u no

David [12:59]: kidnap som9one and thn abandon them to the masses desperate for a new idol to cling to

David [12:59]: maybe in the form of a Mariah Carey song stylist with top shelf taste  
  


**Patrick [12:59]: Of course not**

**Patrick [12:59]: You should drink some water  
  
**

David [12:59]: i am drinking water  
  
**Patrick [12:59]: Are you though?  
  
**David [1:00]: Mhm  
  
**Patrick [1:00]: Want to send me a selfie of you drinking?  
  
**David [1:00]: Why  
  
**Patrick [1:00]: It’s been what, 15 whole hours since I’ve seen your face. Maybe I just miss you.**

 **  
  
**David [1:00]: ugh fine

David [1:04]: [Attachment.jpg]

  
  
**Patrick [1:04]: Cute  
  
**David [1:04]: I think u mean handsome and very fuckable  
  
**Patrick [1:04]: I definitely do  
  
**  
David chews on his bottom lip as he smiles, the remnants of a bad habit to keep every over-bubbling emotion in check.   
  
  
David [1:05]: speaking of fuckable 

David [1:05]: ive got this hotel bed all to myself 

David [1:05]: and im actually feeling rly cute rn  
  
  
**Patrick [1:05]: You’re always really cute  
  
**David [1:05]: handsome and very fuckable, go on  
  
  
**Patrick [1:05]: Right**

**Patrick [1:05]: You’re also drunk  
  
  
**David [1:06]: ive been a lot more drunk and had rly excllent sex 

David [1:06]: lets just say from experience i am definitely not so drunk that u would be taking advantage of me  
  
  
**Patrick [1:06]: Okay, putting that on the shelf to talk about later when you’re sober**

 **Patrick [1:06]: Are you sure?  
  
  
**David [1:06]: v sure

David [1:06]: hold on  
  
Ten and some change miles away from David’s hotel room, Patrick sighs and pushes himself up against the headboard. The chances of him sliding easily right back into the arms of sleep are getting slimmer and slimmer with every minute he stares at his screen, but he doesn’t have it in him to begrudge David. Not when David’s being charmingly sloppy. Not when he needs Patrick to be a grounding force from a distance. He waits patiently with his phone in his hand for two minutes, three. When it gets to five, he’s checking his newsfeed in case anything interesting has happened in the few hours of sleep he’s managed to get. When it hits eight minutes, he has half a mind to check in and see if David’s fallen asleep in the process of whatever he was doing. He’s halfway through typing out a concern before a picture shows up, one that’s been run through a filter app, because of course David won’t even send a drunk selfie until he knows he looks picture perfect. He’s laying on a still-made bed, propped up against the hotel-white, overfilled pillows, with his shirt off and his stomach sucked in like it mattered. Like Patrick doesn’t love the curve of David’s belly. Like Patrick hasn’t gotten down onto his knees to kiss his way downwards when David had been staring in the mirror and complaining with his eyes. Like Patrick hadn’t ordered the extra fries he knows David wanted to stress-eat and had occasionally bitten his tongue to stop from ordering when he was feeling particularly disappointed with his body.   
  
If he were there with David in the hotel bed, he would say something about it, act on what he doesn’t need to say, but this is different. This is David feeling himself, and he has no intention of raining on that parade. If he needs to suck in his stomach to feel sexy in a selfie then fine. Patrick can linger instead on David’s face, that half-smile that he’s willing to bet followed a series of duck-faces and serious smolder attempts. He can focus on the David’s hand on his chest, with a hand intentionally placed with a thumb against a nipple.  
  
Tease.   
  
**Patrick [1:14]: You look great  
  
  
**David [1:15]: Thank you

David [1:15]: I’d look even better if u were here on top of me

David [1:15]: maybe if u were kissing down my chest i’d look really excellent  
  
  
**Patrick [1:15]: You’re really doing this now, huh  
  
  
**David [1:15]: You bet

David [1:15]: Normally i’d be all about having a bed this size to myself but u’ve fucking ruined me

David [1:16]: i hope ur happy about that  
  
  
**Patrick [1:16]: Very happy about it, actually  
  
  
**David [1:16]: I think u should really ruin me 

David [1:16]: a lot

David [1:16]: as often as possible

David [1:16]: really break me down until im begging for it  
  
The thought of David gasping and begging surrounded by over-stuffed hotel pillows really does it for Patrick. He can feel his dick starting to take real interest. He knows how he wants to respond, but he pauses with his fingers on the keys, momentarily unsure of how to proceed. It’s not that they haven’t sexted before. Sexting was sometimes one of the few ways to get off, back when he was still at Ray’s and when David’s family were crowding in. He’d sexted with Rachel too, usually when they were off working towards on again. He’d even tried tinder for a really short stretch, emphasis on short. Experience with how to sext isn’t the problem. The problem is David’s experience in relation to his own. Sometimes, he pauses, because he isn’t sure if what he’s imagining in his head is acceptable. Sometimes he isn’t sure if what he wants is enough for David, or maybe too much. There’s a line in the sand that he knows David is on the other side of, but he also knows that David, for all of his experience, doesn’t necessarily _want_ to go where he’s gone before. Maybe something David loves about Patrick is that he doesn’t cross that line.  
  
So Patrick hesitates.   
  
  
David [1:17]: what are you typing a novel

David [1:17]: i’m way too horny rn for u to be taking this long  
  
  
**Patrick [1:18]: Sorry**

 **Patrick [1:18]: I was just thinking about you  
  
  
**David [1:18]: Good 

David [1:18]: What were you thinking about exactly?

David [1:18]: because you know this is a safe space for all the ways you want to fuck me  
  
  
And then there’s David, swooping on in with the right thing to say, even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it. When he’s drunk, half dressed, all by himself in a hotel room when he could pick anyone up that he wanted, if he wanted. David still wants _his_ exclusive, immediate attention, not anyone else’s. Not just to talk him to sleep or do his taxes, but for playful, vaguely adventurous long-distance sexting. David isn’t the person he was before Patrick knew him. If Patrick crosses a line, David would say. David trusts him with sloppy selfies and really drunk long-distance hotel sex.   
  
Fuck, he’s so in love with David Rose.   
  
  
**Patrick [1:19]: Oh you know, just you begging me.**

 **Patrick [1:19]: And the whole ruining you part.  
  
  
**David [1:19]: Oh?  
  
  
**Patrick [1:19]: Sorry I got stuck on that.  
  
  
**David [1:19]: no please get stuck on that

David [1:19]: tell me more

David [1:19]: how would u ruin me  
  
  
**Patrick [1:19]: You mean aside from how I’ve already ruined you for sleeping alone.  
  
  
**David [1:19]: obvsly  
  
  
**Patrick [1:20]: I think I’d want to take you apart slowly, I like it when you’re so turned on that you get sloppy  
  
**

Patrick knows that David’s fingers are trying to type some rebuttal to him ever being sloppy, so he types quicker to cut him off.   
  
  
**Patrick [1:20]: You’re really sexy when you’re sloppy  
  
  
**David [1:20]: I mean

David [1:20]: Yes yes I am  
  
  
**Patrick [1:20]: And if I’m ruining you, I think the goal is ruining you for any other dick but mine  
  
  
**David [1:20]: Baby uve already done that

David [1:20]: No dick but ur dick

David [1:21]: If you were here with my right now I’d want u all over me  
  
  
**Patrick [1:21]: If I was there, I’d be sucking on that spot behind your ear that you love**

**Patrick [1:21]: digging my teeth in so anyone who sees it knows you’re mine**

**Patrick [1:21]: I’d be running my hands down your chest**

**Patrick [1:21]: I love your chest**

**Patrick [1:21]: I love your body**

**Patrick [1:22]: Love the sound you make when you’re turned on but aren’t so gone yet that you’re able to let go  
  
  
**David [1:22]: Mmm well good thinh we’re alone in a hotel room

David [1:22]: if anyone could make me scream its u 

David [1:22]: look how much I want u babe  
  
  
Another delay, and another image. This time, it’s a picture of David’s designer boxer briefs, shot in a way that really just shows that David isn’t so drunk as to not consider his angles. The outline of his cock is clear and straining against the fabric, with a tiny wet patch forming over the tip, and David’s hand cupping his balls through the fabric. Patrick curses under his breath, and his hand shoots under his own boxers to wrap around his cock, well on its way to full hardness. He’s going to save that picture, for sure.   
  
  
**Patrick [1:24]: Did I say u could touch urself?  
  
  
**David [1:24]: no

David [1:24]: didnt realise that was a thing we were doing

David [1:24]: im v into it  
  
  
**Patrick [1:24]: Oh it’s a thing we’re doing**

**Patrick [1:24]: if i’m taking u apart its on my terms**

**Patrick [1:24]: if i was there i’d want to hold ur hands above ur head**

**Patrick [1:24]: or tie them to the headboard so u couldn’t move**

**Patrick [1:24]: too much?  
  
  
**David [1:25]: definitely not too much

David [1:25]: keep going  
  
  
**Patrick [1:25]: ok**

 **Patrick [1:25]: fuck, i cant do this one handed  
  
  
**David [1:25]: hot  
  
  
**Patrick [1:26]: I’m calling  
  
  
**Patrick fumbles with his off-hand on the screen of his phone, and the dial tone barely rings once before David answers.   
  
“Hi.” David is quiet when he’s being affectionate, like the sound of his affection is something precious that needs to be cherished and protected. Even with David drunk and alone in his hotel room, Patrick can recognize the sound of it. David’s love is a quiet, private thing, and it’s all his. This call is raunchy by it’s very nature, but Patrick can’t help but smile. This was a good idea.   
  
“Hi. How are you feeling?”  
  
David bites his bottom lip because he hasn’t stopped smiling since they started texting, and his smile only grows. Of course Patrick would check how he’s doing before anything. If he were sober that would probably just remind him that no one has ever in his life before Schitt’s Creek, been so adamant about checking in on him like this when sex was on the table. Lucky for him he’s just drunk enough to focus on the very warm, very fuzzy positives of the moment. David doesn’t touch his cock again, not when Patrick said he couldn’t, but his hand aimlessly wanders across his chest, enjoying the sensation of his own hair against his palm. “I’m feeling very good. But you know what would make me feel better?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If my very considerate boyfriend would be a little more considerate about the phone sex we’re supposed to be having right now.”   
  
Patrick chuckles through the speaker of David’s phone, and it radiates across David’s skin like a hot towel at a spa.  
  
“I think I can do that.”  
  
“Good, because you told me not to touch myself and that’s not a great look for me right now.”   
  
“I think that’s a great look for you right now.”   
  
“Oh do you?”  
  
“I do. I think you’d look even better begging me to let you come. You know, with your hands tied to the bedpost with one of my ties. What do you think?”   
  
David’s teeth dig deeper into his bottom lip, and his hips squirm on the bed in search of all that contact he just can’t have.   
  
“And you think you’ve gotten me there yet? Because I’m not so sure.”   
  
“You’ve gotta be patient David, you know that.”   
  
“Mm, tell me more about how patient I’m going to need to be.”   
  
“Well…” Patrick takes a moment, and David swears he can hear Patrick slowly stroking himself over the phone line. He can visualise it perfectly, a hand moving under the tent in those not-actually-the-worst-quality boxers he sleeps in. David runs his fingers over one of his nipples to get _something_ physical out of it; that doesn’t count as not touching himself, right? Right. “So I said I would take you apart slowly, right?”  
  
“Right.”   
  
“Yeah, just think about that. Think about me taking my time kissing you, kissing down your jaw, leaving hickeys on your neck. Think about me touching you all over, running my hands down your back, getting my nails down your sides just the way you like it. I know you’d be squirming because you just want me to get down between your legs, but I like watching you wait. How’re your hands doing?”  
  
“Mm. Good. Great. Not touching myself if that’s what you’re asking.”   
  
“You’re playing with your nipples aren’t you?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“Go ahead and pretend I’ve got the one you’re playing with in my mouth.”   
  
David does has he’s told for once. A pleased hum manages to pass through pursed lips as he rolls the fully peaked nub of his nipple between his fingers, then runs the edge of his nail around where nipple meets areola. Patrick’s grip on his cock tightens at the sound.   
  
“You like that?”  
  
“Mm, very much so, thank you. Keep going.”   
  
“Right. After that I’d kiss a trail down your stomach. I love your happy trail David, you’re so sexy. I can’t believe you used to shave all of it off.”   
  
“Okay less talk about old body issues and more talk about sucking my dick. I can’t believe I even told you that.”   
  
“Speaking of sucking your dick David. I _could_ do that, but that wouldn’t be taking my time with it. I think I’d linger around your hips instead. Give you a hickey right in that spot where your leg meets your belly. Maybe run my hands down your thighs, and up the inside a bit. I love watching your legs just fall open for me.”   
  
David’s hand drifts down his chest and down his stomach with every word. He thumbs the divot in his hip where he can imagine Patrick sucking a bruise into his skin. He doesn’t have to imagine it really; it’s the memory of a sensation burned into his skin every single time Patrick lingers. His fingertips graze the waistband of his underwear, tuck gently underneath before skimming back above again. He can follow instructions, mostly, when the instructions are to his own benefit. He’s so relaxed, so keyed up by the entire shots-and-champagne bolstered success of an evening, that the tease of the waistband dropping back down against his skin has his toes curling, his knees lifting as the squirm rolls across his body. He’s had drunk sex more times than he’s had sober sex if he’s honest with himself, but it was never like this. It was never like being with Patrick. Even miles away, Patrick can lift him higher than anyone else ever could. He all but whines into the phone. David can’t even remember when he put it on speaker and let it rest on the pillow beside his head but he’s so grateful to past him, probably less than five minutes ago him, for the forethought.   
  
With the phone out of his hand he can clutch the sheets beside him. He can imagine that he’s got his hand pressed against the back of Patrick’s head, tugging on his hair.   
  
“ _Patrick, please.”  
  
_“Please what?”   
  
“Let me touch myself, please.”   
  
David can hear Patrick breathing heavier across the line. He knows the sound of Patrick’s chest rising and falling when his cock is being stroked. He can also hear him _thinking_ in the extended pause.   
  
“I don’t think so. You can wait.”   
  
David groans, running his fingernails up his stomach in begrudging obedience. “I wish you were here with me.”   
  
“I wish I were too. Then I’d actually be able to do what I’m thinking about.”  
  
“Mm, tell me.”   
  
“I want to push your legs up and get my tongue in your ass.”   
  
“You are _very_ good with your tongue.”   
  
“I just want you squirming under me baby. I want to watch you come apart at the seams because you’re so fucking sexy when you’re enjoying yourself. I love knowing that I’m the only person making you feel this good.”  
  
“You are, you’re the only one. I’m _so_ hard right now, you have no idea.”  
  
“I’ve got some idea. _Fuck_ , David. Touch yourself, please, I need to hear you.”   
  
Permission snaps David’s attention back towards himself and his own needs as opposed to the sound of Patrick’s uneven breathing miles away in his own bed. He shoves his underwear down, leaving it under the curve of his ass, finally freeing his cock. He’s leaking on his stomach. He’s made a desperate, needy mess of good, organic-cotton briefs but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is his fist around his aching dick, trying to chase the imagined sensation of Patrick’s tongue in his ass, Patrick’s hands on his body, the very unimagined sound of Patrick’s voice beside his ear egging him on. Patrick listens from his bed, riding the sounds that David makes when he’s touching himself, feeling them reverberate through his own cock like a feedback loop. There’s something about just hearing David and not being able to touch him that’s sending Patrick right to the very edge of his own ability to keep it together.   
  
“Patrick--Keep talking, I’m so close.”   
  
“Ahha---Okay. Okay. Lick your hand--Nice and wet. Imagine I’m sucking your cock. You’ve earned it, you’ve been so patient. You’ve been such a good boy.”  
  
“Fuck yes I absolutely have.”  
  
“You’ve earned this. You can fuck my mouth, do you want that?”  
  
“Yeah, Yeah…”   
  
“I’m close too David. The sounds you’re making, you’re amazing. You’re incredible. Fuck. Fuck I want to come on your chest, baby.”  
  
“Do it, I want you to do it, _please_ Patrick.”  
  
The thought of coming on David’s chest does it for Patrick. It’s that, combined with the half-imagined, half-remembered flash of David lying beneath him, heaving and begging, arching his neck back the way he does when he’s so close to an orgasm. He comes hard in his hand. He paints the inside of his boxers with it, because he hadn’t had the forethought or focus beyond David’s voice panting away in his ear to consider otherwise. Stars dance behind his eyelids, and he’s breathing heavily through his mouth as he comes down from up high.   
  
David is still breathing just as hard and just as fast from the other end of the call. Patrick’s hand is cramping up from holding his phone so tightly, pressed against his ear. Still he holds on, licks his now dry lips, keeps his eyes shut so that he can focus on the sound.   
  
“How are you doing over there?”   
  
“Mm, I’m so close.”   
  
“I just came so hard, thinking about you.”  
  
A whine catches in David’s throat, and he curses under his breath. Patrick talks David closer and closer, listening to every careen and moan on the other end. He talks David through the orgasm that he hears in the way David’s breath catches in his throat, the way a moan pushes past the teeth that Patrick knows are digging into his boyfriend’s bottom lip. David comes with a snag, and a desperate, releasing moan, before he’s heaving and catching his breath. David, Patrick has learned, makes more sound when he comes and then subsequently when he’s coming down, than he does working himself towards that point. It’s something that Patrick finds immensely sexy about David; when David comes, he comes apart.   
  
A minute passes and Patrick sits in his bed, listening to David breathe. He knows David will have _something_ to say. When he does, it’s mildly predictable but not in the least bit unappreciated.  
  
“That was...that was really very excellent. You should be proud.”   
  
“Thank you, I’ll be sure to add the review to my guestbook.”   
  
The silence draws on for ten seconds, twenty, thirty, and all Patrick hears on the other end is distant and vaguely pleased breathing.   
  
“David, you still there?”  
  
“Mm, yes. Yep. I think I’m maybe still a little drunk,”   
  
“Sounds like you had a lot. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”  
  
“M’excellent. Love you.”   
  
Patrick smiles into the phone even though he’s alone in his apartment, and David can’t see the look of warm affection on his face. Patrick knows how this goes. He knows how David is when he’s been drinking and exerting himself. He looks down at the time on his phone. 1:56 AM.   
  
“Love you too, goodnight.”  
  
David barely murmurs a reply into his overly starched hotel pillow, and Patrick hangs up first to save his boyfriend some semblance of dignity.   
  
  


\----  
  
  
  
The sun is blindingly bright on the drive back to Schitt’s Creek, and David’s sunglasses can only protect him from so much. They couldn’t protect him from hotel coffee and two mass-produced, pre-packaged pain au chocolat’s at breakfast either, but that was always going to be beyond their power to do. No amount of money could buy sunglasses that served beyond their station. The only sweet relief in his absolute agony is the cool wind from the open window, and the silence of the car ride. He’s never been so happy to have a best friend who understands the value of quiet.   
  
“So…”   
  
When Stevie pipes up from the driver’s seat, eyes firmly fixed on the road, David doesn’t move a muscle. He hopes, if he stays perfectly still, the sun will kindly decide to turn itself off, and he won’t bring up continental breakfast all over the side of Stevie’s car.   
  
“...I heard you left Patrick a message last night.”   
  
“ _Oh my God._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @ mooshberry  
> and on tumblr @ lushthemagicdragon


End file.
